Hadassah looked around the bare antechamber. She recalled that there had been two marble statues of nymphs in this room, one on each side. Now only the potted palms remained, and they were dying for lack of care. The walls had once been covered with Babylonian tapestries. They were now bare. The marble pedestals that had held Corinthian vases filled with flowers were also gone.
Leaning heavily on Rashid’s arm, Hadassah limped toward the stairs. When she reached them, Rashid swept her up in his arms again.
“What’s wrong?” he growled close to her ear as he carried her up the steps.
“Nothing,” she said, glancing down into the peristyle as he carried her up the steps. The fountain was still running, but around it was a thick layer of dirt clouding the tile murals.
The girl tapped lightly at the bedchamber door, and a young man opened it. Seeing his face, Hadassah recognized him immediately. Prometheus. He had been her only friend in this household.
“My lord,” Prometheus said in grave greeting, obviously relieved and pleased to see Alexander. He bowed. “Please, come in.” He drew back, his arm extended toward the center of the room. “Lady Julia is resting.” He looked at Hadassah as Rashid carried her past, his expression one of curiosity rather than awe or recognition.
Hadassah’s fear vanished the moment she saw Julia lying on the bed. Shocked by her appearance, she gasped softly. Rashid stopped.
Prometheus passed them and went to the bed. Bending down, he touched Julia’s shoulder. “My lady, the physician has come.” She roused. Putting her hand out, she allowed him to help her sit up. Pushing the damp tendrils of hair back from her pale face, she looked across the room with bleary eyes. Clinging to Prometheus’ arm, she rose clumsily.
“Oh!” Hadassah said, a catch in her throat. “Put me down, please.”
Rashid knew in that instant they were in the lion’s den.
“Rashid,” she said.
He set her on her feet as she asked, but caught hold of her arm with unyielding fingers. “Do not get close to her.”
Hadassah didn’t hear him. She had eyes only for Julia. She was dressed in a faded red robe, her hair braided in a crown. She looked so thin and ill as she held her hand out, as regal in bearing as ever, to Alexander. He bowed over it as he would a young queen. “My lady,” he said gently.
“Would you care for some wine?”
“No, thank you, Lady Julia.”
“It’s just as well. What I have to offer isn’t very good,” she said, and Hadassah knew she had been drinking heavily. Julia turned her head and looked at her. “Is this the famous Rapha?” There was a tinge of mockery in her tone.
“Yes,” Alexander said. He saw that Hadassah stood a good distance from the bed and Rashid had firm hold of her arm as though keeping her there. He frowned slightly and glanced at the Arab’s dark, set face. Sudden alarm swept through him at the look on Rashid’s face. What was wrong? He caught the Arab’s eye and gave a faint raise of his brows. Rashid looked back at him fiercely, then his gaze flickered from Lady Julia to Rapha. He looked at Alexander again and jerked his head toward the door.
Alexander’s heart dropped.
“My servant told me about you,” Julia said, looking at the veiled woman. “It is said you can perform miracles.”
Hadassah took a step toward her and winced as Rashid’s fingers bit into her arm.
“Miracles only occur for those who are deemed worthy,” he said, his voice darker than Hadassah had ever heard it.
Julia smiled brittlely and looked at Prometheus. “What did I tell you?” The vulnerability Hadassah had glimpsed an instant before was now replaced by an implacable coldness. Julia looked at Alexander. “And how much will it cost me to have the great Rapha dispense her healing touch upon my poor unworthy body?”
Alexander felt a sudden, deep surge of dislike.
Hadassah pulled her arm from Rashid’s grasp and limped toward the bed.
“Rapha! Do not!” Alexander said, afraid she would remove her veils as she had for Phoebe Valerian. The girl on this bed was like a malignancy.
Julia, not understanding, backed from her, eyes wide with fear. Hadassah held out her hand. Julia blinked, staring at it. She raised her eyes and stared at her in question, trying to see what was behind the veils. She started to reach out, but just before their fingers brushed she drew her hand back sharply. “You have not told me what I must pay,” she said haughtily, her hand a fist against her chest.
“Your soul,” Rashid said darkly at the same time Hadassah said, “Nothing.”
Julia looked between them in confusion. “Which is it?”